Guiding Light
by Zappanale
Summary: A new boarder with a mysterious past moves into the Sunset Arms, and begins to make Arnold think about a certain pigtailed girl who he'd thought despised him. NOW COMPLETE. Please take a gander.
1. He Came With the Autumn Breeze

**Author's Note: Since I haven't seen it, I'm not including the events of Hey Arnold! The Movie. Sorry:) I hope you enjoy this, it's a definite spur of the moment thing. Also: the guys uploading Arnold episodes on youtube are AWESOME. Thanks a ton.

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The day was cold and had that mid-Autumn breeze: you know the kind, chilly but not biting. The trees had already begun to turn color--what little trees there were--and the sky was a light shade of gray. Headache gray.

Arnold sat on the stoop of his boarding house, looking expectant. If somebody asked he'd tell them that he was just hanging around, bored, but he had a real reason to be out on that stoop: he was waiting for the boarder. His grandfather had told him about it a week ago, that they were getting a new boarder to take up the last spare room. He hadn't said anything other than that. Nothing about the new guy at all.

The door behind Arnold opened and his grandfather stepped out, dressed in a wool coat. "Hey there, Shortman. How's it lookin?" Arnold shrugged. "Getting dark. I don't think it's gonna rain, though." His grandfather nodded and sat down beside him. "The new boarder should be coming today," he said, and Arnold nodded.

They didn't speak anymore after that, which was surprising to Arnold. Usually his grandfather couldn't shut up.

A car pulled up beside the boarding house just then and the back door opened and Arnold thought, 'So this must be it.' The man he saw surprised him. A lot.

He was tall and wide; broad shoulders sitting upon a barrel chest. It was obvious that he was in shape but it was also obvious that alchol had taken a toll on him, had made his gut a little bigger than it should be. The man in the driver's seat said, "G'luck, Lonnie. I'll see ya when I see ya." The big man nodded and a got a big brown suitcase out of the trunk. The car pulled off.

The man walked to the stoop and appraised Arnold and Grandpa, studied them. He had a big chin, a square face. Green eyes that sparkled with intelligence and something else that Arnold couldn't quite see. Something strange. The man said to Grandpa, "You must be Phil." Grandpa stood and said, "Hello there! Welcome to the Sunset Arms Boarding House! Shortman here--that's my grandson, Arnold--he'll show you to your room. You have any questions, just come see me."

He leaned in close to Arnold now and said, "Take his bag, boy." Arnold said alright and took it and started up the stairs, thinking about the man's hand: it was massive and gnarled like a tree trunk. He'd seen the end of a tattoo on one of the knuckles.

The man said, "Thanks, kid," and walked in after him. Grandpa shut the door.

Arnold looked back at him: his clothes were strange. Outdated looking. A leather jacket that looked 1970s and a flowered shirt and brown slacks and cuban heeled shoes. He saw a pack of cigarettes tucked in his shirt pocket.

The room was on the second floor at the end of the hall, not far from Arnold's little loft. Grandpa opened the door and handed the new boarder the key, saying, "Try not to lose it, we can't get copies anymore 'cause Pookie has a fit over the price." The man laughed politely and walked inside his room: tiny and cramped, with a kitchenette and an itty dining table and a closet. The bed was tucked in a corner and the carpet was stained: some of it could be food, some of it Arnold wasn't sure of.

The man walked inside and frowned at the carpet: it was greasy. Just how in the hell do you get _carpets _greasy? Grandpa said, "It's a little small but I think it'll do ya. Rent comes in on the first of the month and if you're a little short, then I'm sure we can work somethin' out." Oscar, standing in the hallway--'When did he get up,' Arnold thought, 'Usually isn't awake until six PM--said, "You never tell me that! It's always, 'Oscar, Oscar, turn up the money _now!' _How come this stranger gets so much special treatment!"

Grandpa scowled and said, "Because this stranger doesn't have a gambling addiction and he isn't a _deadbeat!"_ Oscar hung his head and walked back to his room, dejected. Grandpa seemed not to notice.

The man stuck a hand out. He said, "I'm Lonnie Doyle." Grandpa shook it and then the hand came in Arnold's direction and he, after a moment's hesitation, shook it too. The hand felt like sandpaper. Calloused and hard.

Lonnie said, "If you don't mind I'd like ta get unpacked and maybe get some rest. I had a long trip." Grandpa nodded and said, "C'mon Shortman, let's go grab some dinner."

They left Lonnie to his own devices and started down the hall. After a moment Arnold asked, "Where'd he come from?"

"Oh, I believe he just got out of pris...uh...outta the farm business. Yeah. He was a _farmer._"

"What?"

"Stop askin questions, Arnold. We got food waitin for us."

Arnold decided not to press it any further. But he did cast one last look down the hall, back at the room. The door was closed now.

He thought about the tattoo. How crude it had been.

Where do you get a tattoo like that?


	2. Late For School

**Author's Note: Nothing to say, really, except that the appearance of Lonnie Doyle is based on that of Lono from the comic book series 100 Bullets.**

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Lonnie woke with the sun at six o'clock and made coffee and drank it while reading a book: Brave New World. He skimmed the pages expertly and looking at him you might be surprised: a man like that, tattoed and massive and tough looking, reading class literature. After an hour he put the book down and finished his coffee and shaved using his kitchen sink and a hand mirror.

His closet was small but that was fine, since he barely had any clothes to put in it. He took the better part of ten seconds deciding what to wear and then he got dressed: black slacks, blue shirt, leather jacket. His cigarettes were laying on the nightstand by his bed--Dunhills--and he took one out from the package and lit with a fake zippo before heading out of the room and into the hall.

The house was deadly quiet except for the sound of a bus pulling away. 'Must be that kid,' Lonnie thought, 'Goin to school'. He went down the staircase and into the kitchen, scavenging for food. After finding nothing--save a can of beans and two bananas and what _looked _like leftover pizza--he decided to get lunch at a diner somewhere and left the kitchen, heading for the front door.

Arnold was there on the stoop when he opened it, head hung. His backpack lay beside him on the step. Lonnie asked if he'd missed his bus.

Arnold looked up, startled. He said, "Yeah, I guess...must've overslept." Lonnie nodded and started off to the sidewalk but after he was on the concrete he turned around and said, "Want a ride?" Arnold looked from left to right, thinking, and Lonnie saw immediately that the kid was uncomfortable in his presence and he could see why. Not many kids would feel comfortable in his presence. Not many adults, for that matter.

Finally the kid said, "Alright, sure," and stood from the stoop. "My car's about a block away." The kid said alright and they started to walk.

Lonnie looked at him: he could see why his Grandpa called him 'short man'. A minute or so of uncomfortable silence passed until Lonnie asked, "Do you like school?" Arnold shrugged. "It's alright, I guess. Not so bad." Lonnie nodded and asked if he hung out with anyone in the neighborhood. Arnold said no.

"But my friend Gerald only lives a few blocks away, so I usually do stuff with him. Baseball, things like that."

"You must get along with everybody pretty well."

"Yeah, pretty much. Well...not eveybody."

"Oh?"

"There's this girl I know named Helga who's always bothering me. I don't really know what her problem is, but she's always throwing spitballs at me or calling me names. It can get _really _obnoxious."

Lonnie turned his head to the side and grinned. His teeth looked like fangs: sharp and hard and well kept. "Sounds like a real pain," he said. "So she's just always bothering you? Everyday?" "Yeah," Arnold replied, "She is, usually."

They made small talk the rest of way: baseball, the weather. Lonnie asked him about some of the other boarding house occupants and Arnold told him about everyone, their stories, their quirks. Lonnie listened intently, making mental notes.

Finally they reached his car. It was old, some kind of Chevy. Arnold went around to get in on the passenger side but there was a notebook laying in the seat. He sat down, picking it up, and turned to the first page. It read, "My darling, I--" but that was all Arnold saw because Lonnie plucked it out of his hands and tossed it into the backseat. "That's...that's personal, kid. Don't mess with it."

Arnold eyed for a second and asked, "What was it?" Lonnie shook his head and they started to drive and Arnold didn't mention it again.

"Where do you go to school?"

"PS118."

"No shi...uh, kiddin'?" He paused for a moment as if thinking deeply and said, "I think I somebody who works there."

He drove through the traffic expertly and they arrived at the school in less than twenty minutes. Arnold grabbed his back and got out of the car, departing with a thank you. Lonnie said, "No problem. I had nothin' to do anyway."

He sat in the car for a moment and a girl--must be that Helga he was talking about--shove Arnold out her way and call him something. Arnold scowled at her and walked over to a black kid with a huge head of hair--Gerald, Lonnie guessed--and the two did a handshake thing and walked up the steps to school.

The Helga girl watched them go and then did something strange: it only lasted for a second, but it immediately confirmed something Lonnie had just assumed from their earlier conversation.

She swooned. Her eyelids fluttered and she clasped her hands to her chest and said something to herself and then walked up the steps, going into the school. Lonnie chuckled, thinking of his own childhood, and then drove home.

He got the notebook out of the back seat as he exited the car and walked into a diner and got a booth by the window. He ordered eggs and bacon.

As he waited for the food to arrive he opened the notebook and took out a pen and started to write. Everyonce in a while he would stop and think and then the pen would be in a flurry, moving so fast it was difficult to imagine he was putting anything down by gibberish.

By the time his food arrived,he'd gone through seven pages.


	3. The Wild Son

_Your knives are sharp,_

_When you put them my heart_

_Though the truth, you'd say_

_Is I like them there thay way_

_From this hoodlum skin,_

_I can always run to him_

_Undeserved_

_Capsized_

_In the gutters of his eyes_

_Darling I need you far more than I say,_

_None of my fears are as dear to me_

**The Wild Son,** by **The Veils**

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The day went just like another.

He sat in the usual seat and listened to the usual lesson: math; fractions. Helga shot spitballs and they did the routine, a quick turn around and an incredulous '_what?'_. By the time class ended she must've shot twenty at him. He felt relieved when the bell rang.

He got on the bus with Gerald and they rode home talking about the new boarder. Gerald had heard things: the man was an ex-convict, a former armed robber. All around bad man. Arnold shook his head and said, "Nah, that can't be. He seems real nice." Gerald laughed and said something about Arnold being naive. "My man Fuzzy Slippers don't lie, Arnold. This man is _mean, _know what I'm sayin'?"

Arnold shrugged it off. When he bus arrived at his stop he got out and endured a harsh elbow to the kidney from Helga: "Why dont'cha watch you walk, _football head!" _He scowled and got off the bus with Gerald and began to walk. She went in her own way.

"Gerald, do you seriously think that Lonnie is a...criminal?"

"Yeah, man, I'm tellin' you. You sure do make some shady friends. First Frankie G and now this guy..."

Arnold said nothing. Eventually they reached the boarding house and did their handshake and Arnold went inside, dropping his backpack off by the coat rack. Grandpa said, "Hey there, Shortman. How was school?"

"It was alright."

He went up the stairs, walking to his room, passing Lonnie's door without a glance.

But then the door opened and he stood there and said, "Oh, hey, Arnold. I was meanin' to talk witchoo'." Arnold turned around and looked at the hallway: deserted. "Uh..." he said, but Lonnie wouldn't hear it.

"Come on in, take a seat."

Arnold shrugged and walked into the apartment: bare except for a table and a bed and a stuffed bookshelf. The journal from the seat of his car was laying on the table beside a bowl of cereal. Arnold eyed it warily and then looked at Lonnie.

He was wearing a suit. An old threadbare brown one with a black tie. Arnold was about to ask why he was wearing, but all he got out was "W--" because Lonnie started to speak.

Arnold sat down and listened. "I was thinkin' about your problems with that girl, whatshername. I thought I might tell ya' a story...thought it might help."

He cleared his throat, took a spoonful of cereal. Arnold looked across the room and saw a bouqeut of flowers sitting on his bed. Flowers? What?

"When I was a kid," he began, his eyes going far away, to another place. "I was kind of...ignored, you could say, by my parents. They were always fawning over my older brother, the jerk...always got good grades, football star. I was just sorta' shoved aside in favor of him. I don't even think they'd meant to have me on purpose...

"And it made me mad. But I didn't take my anger out like most people do...I didn't punch a pillow or nothin'. I took it out on other things. Cars, shop windows...people...I was a ball of rage. Always breakin' something or stealin' something. By the third fuc--freakin' grade I'd already been arrested six times, and lemme' tell ya, when my folks had to bail me outta' lockup they sure noticed I was around then. I was a hellraiser. A bully.

"I guess you could say that I was the wild son. Now one day, in the fourth grade, right? I'm sitting outside the school 'cause my parents forgot to pick me up. I'm sittin' there and it starts to rain and there isn't any place to hide, and this girl comes up...this beautiful girl. Nice black hair, delicate face. A real doll. Her name was Morgan, and I'd noticed her before...a goody-two-shoes, always helping kids out. And she hands me this umbrella...and I'm asking, 'What's this for? Why're you doing this?', and she says, 'It's raining and your getting wet.'

"Now I don't thank her because my jaw is hanging down to the sidewalk and she walks away and goes wherever. My parents never did pick me up. I took a cab home and got beat up by the cabbie 'cause I couldn't pay.

"And let me tell you now...I fell in love with that girl." Arnold's eyes opened wide and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Where was this going?

"I started following her around, writing poetry and stuff about her. Now that may seem strange to you...a guy like me writing poetry. But to be honest I never liked that...the violent life style. I wanted to be a writer when I was a kid. A movie writer or somethin'. Maybe romance novels, I dunno'..." He blushed a little and Arnold suppressed a laugh.

"So time goes on and I just keep harboring these feelings. I keep hiding who's on the inside of me. We get older and she has boyfriends and I stay alone because I just can't move on...and then we go our seperate ways. She graduates from high school and goes to college and becomes a child psychiatrist or psychologist or whatever, and I drop out and...and I go my own way."

There was a silence. Arnold looked up at him and realized what that 'something else' in his eyes had been: a great sadness.

"Point is, Arnold that sometimes you keep something bottled up in inside, and you tell yourself that you'll let it out when you're ready, and eventually time runs out and all you can do is think about what coulda' been. I think this girl that's always botherin' you could hear that advice. Do you see what I'm saying?"

Arnold saw what he was saying and a ball of fear--fear?--appeared in his stomach, ice cold, turning over and over like it was propelled. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I guess she could...yeah, she could hear that."

He sat there a moment and Lonnie said, "What, what're you waiting for? Go tell her." He checked his watch and stood, grabbing the bouquet and shutting the journal. Arnold walked to the door and turned back and said, "Thanks, Lonnie." Lonnie waved his hand, a dismissal.

Arnold left the apartment ran down the stairs, feeling that ball in his stomach grow larger but knowing that if he didn't do this now he'd never be able to do it.

Lonnie watched him from his room's window, bolting down the street. He checked his watch again.

He hoped the kid would tell her.

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**Author's Note: I think that the Veils' song I quoted up there really sums up Helga's feeling about Arnold, don't you? Great song, from the album **_The Runaway Found_. **Please read and review, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There should be three more to go and maybe an epilogue.**


	4. Simple Twist of Fate

_They sat together in the park_

_As the evening sky grew dark_

_She looked at him, and he felt a spark_

_Tingle to his bones_

_It was then he felt alone_

_And wished that he'd gone straight,_

_And watched out for_

_A simple twist of fate_

**_Simple Twist of Fate, _**by **_Bob Dylan_**

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He hadn't expected to find her.

Helga stood on the bridge in the park, overlooking the water, holding something small and golden in her hand. A medallion? Looked like it. Arnold walked up slowly, telling himself to calm. To get into character. Play it Bogart.

She saw him coming and scowled after putting the locket away, her eyebrow narrowing, her face contorting into a mask of anger. Arnold was about to speak when she said, "What'd _you _want, foot-ball head?"

He paused and tried to remember Lonnie's words how they were said. After what seemed like a century of uncomfortable silence--during which time Arnold caught his breath--he said, "Helga, I wanted to tell you something...it's kinda important."

Her expression changed. Was that...hopefulness? Her hands began to shake and she said, "Yeah, like what?" Still trying to sound angry but her voice was high pitched.

"I just wanted to say...that...that if you have something bottled up inside you, that you shouldn't, uh...you shouldn't leave it there because eventually it might be too late to let it out." Helga raised and eyebrow.

"What are you _talking about, _Arnoldo?" He groaned, trying to think of another way to put it.

"Helga, I know that deep down you probably aren't that mean or abrasive. I know that deep down you're probably one of the smartest, nicest, most sensitive girls in the whole school...and I know you're probably scared to let it out because it's been in there so long that you think nobody will accept it. Someone told me a story today and he said that you shouldn't keep things like that bottled up, because eventually you'll run out of time to truly let it out and for the rest of your life you'll have to look back at what _could _have been. That...that's all."

Helga's mouth was open wide and she looked on the verge of a fit. Arnold turned and shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away, feeling the breeze on his face.

Helga watched him go and then turned to the water, looking at her reflection. After a moment she took out the locket and stared at it.

Then she turned in the direction Arnold had gone and began to run.

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**Author's Note: I hope this wasn't too sappy...I've been trying very hard not to fall into the conventions of a traditional romance and I really do hope it worked. Two or three more chapters to go and maybe an epilogue, so stay tuned, and please remember to read and review.**

**And I'm not sure what album this song it off of...Blood on the Tracks, maybe.**


	5. Head Full of Steam

_If you like-a me_

_Like I lik-a you_

_And we like-a both the same_

_One live as two_

_Two live as one_

_Under the mango tree_

**_Your Name, _**by **_Tricky_**

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She stood outside his door for what seemed like an eternity.

Helga knew what she needed to do. She knew. But her brain and legs just wouldn't connect and the awful fear balled up in her stomach was almost bad enough to make her convulse.

He'd offered, though. He had--in so many words--asked her to reveal everything because somehow he _knew_. How was that? How had he found out?

Helga's mind seized up, barely able to comprehend such a thing. How many people had she told? Lila? If she'd wanted Arnold to know she would've told him a long time ago. Phoebe? 'Course not, she was much too loyal. Dr. Bliss? She could get fired.

Who else knew?

She didn't suppose it mattered now. Somehow Arnold knew that she had...feelings for him. Somehow. And she had to confirm for him. For herself.

And with a head full of steam, she stepped up to the stoop and knocked on the door.

Arnold opened it almost immediately and Helga wondered if he'd been waiting, and just the thought of that made her heart flutter. She said, "Arnold, I have something I gotta' tell you."

He nodded and stood aside and they walked into the hall, beside the stairs. Helga looked around, hoping to _God_ that no one else was around. And then she began to speak.

"Arnold, uh...I thought about what you said and I guess you're right. I can't keep this bottled up. By which I mean, you know, what's inside of me...my, uh, my feelings."

She looked away.

"What I'm trying to say is that I may seem like I hate you a lot, and stuff, but actually I like you...a lot. I _really_ like you. I like you so much that I guess you could say that I _love you, _I like you so much."

Arnold gaped. Helga stayed firmly attached to the view of the floor.

"I guess...that's why I pick on you so much, and everything. Why I make fun of you."

"This is...this is a lot to process, Helga. I really need some time to think things over. _Really. _Like..._now._"

Helga got the idea. She looked up at his face and wished for a moment that she could kiss him and hold on to him and never let go, but her judgement nixed that idea and in a moment she was out the door and down the street, her mind a complete blank, her face contorted into worry and nervous fear.

Arnold stared at the door for a long time after she'd left. Things started to come together: the two times she'd kissed him, both for ages, all the name calling and suspicious happenings. Like when she just happened to walking on his fire escape one night. Or when she jumped in between him and Harold. Or when she took him out to dinner at the Chez Paris.

After a moment he sat down on the couch and cradled his head in his arms.

And he began to think.

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**Author's Note: The song is from the album _Blowback, _and if you're a Massive Attack fan I highly reccomend it.**

**Please read and review! Only two more chapters to go.**


	6. Fire Eye'd Boy

_Fire eye'd boy give em' all the slip_

_Fire eye'd boy give em' all the slip_

_If you're gonna' come you better make it quick_

_Fire eye'd boy, give em' all the slip_

**_Fire Eye'd Boy, _**by **_Broken Social Scene_**

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Arnold had never in his entire life been so afraid of getting on the bus.

He stood and looked at the door for what seemed like an hour until the driver--fat and surly--said, "Hurry up kid, I got a schedule." Arnold gulped and boarded, slowly, taking every minute of his time.

Helga sat near the back, with Pheobe. Gerald cleared Arnold's usual spot but Arnold didn't notice: heart pounding, blood rushing everywhere but his head. Helga watched him walk the entire way down the aisle until he was at her seat and said, "Pheobe, can I talk to Helga a moment?" Pheobe caught the vibe and slid over to Gerald's seat with a little smile. Gerald's mouth swung open and he stared.

The bus started to move. Helga averted her gaze and started studiously out the window, concentrating on everything but Arnold. She felt his eyes on her and gritted her teeth: why doesn't he just say it and get it over with?

Then she caught some movement out of the corner of her eye and looked over and his hand was outstretched in between them, palm up: an offering. She looked at it and then at him and he was blushing and she wanted to jump and grab the stars and pull them all down and shove it in the face of everyone who'd doubted her.

She clasped his hand with her own and the bus went silent.

And then it erupted in whispers behind hands, giggles, snickers. Arnold heard Gerald say, "Man, what he is _doin'?"_ and Pheobe whispered something like, "Way to go, Helga!"

They looked at each other. Arnold saw tears and he looked away.

"Well," he said. Somewhere near the head of the bus Rhonda gasped, just noticing what was happening. Lila smiled to herself. Pheobe did a thumbs up sign to Helga and Gerald continued shaking his head, unbelieving. So out of left field. What just _happened?_

Helga leaned over and looked as though to kiss him, but then she drew back and Arnold squeezed her hand. Sid and Harold couldn't stop laughing. Most of the girls were giggling themselves.

But they didn't notice.

"Well," Helga said, after an ocean of silence. Her voice was shaky. Fear? Happiness?

"Here we go."

And there they went.

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**Author's Note: The song is from the album _Broken Social Scene. _Their latest, I believe.**

**One more chapter to go and then an epilogue. Please read and review, I'd appreciate it!**


	7. My Guiding Light

_I'm fine from within'_

_I'm better without_

_This noose 'round my neck, _

_Is countin' me out_

_Wherever I run,_

_My beautiful sin_

_Is calling outside_

_And it's that that reminds me of you_

_Now every last effort tried,_

_So far has been denied_

_It's easy to cry for love_

_Much harder to try_

_There goes my guiding light_

_Farewell, my guiding light_

_There goes my guiding light_

_Farewell, my guiding light_

_**Guiding Light,** _by **_The Veils _**

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_**Lonnie saw them in the playground as he walked to the school doors and chuckled. 

They sat side by side on top of a picnic table, holding hands. Both looked uncomfortable but after a moment the girl spoke and the boy laughed, long and hard. Lonnie decided it would probably last. Maybe not forever, but for a while.

He was in the brown suit now and holding flowers, sweating, looking nervous. He into the school and made a beeline for the psychiatrist's office.

And then he stared at the door, looking quite a bit like Helga before her confession. He straightened his tie, coughed, breathed in and out. He felt like vomiting.

But instead he knocked and the door opened to reveal and tall woman with short black hair and a delicate face and a nametag that read "Dr. Bliss".

They stared. Dr. Morgan Bliss said, "Lonnie Doyle?" Lonnie nodded. She said, "Come in, please," and he walked past her into the room and turned around and was about to speak when--

When she kissed him on the lips.

Lonnie fell back, startled, and leaned against her desk. She smirked at him: all sass. A 'ha, got you' smirk. Realization dawned and Lonnie asked, "How long have you known?"

"I found one of your journals in the fifth grade, but I think I knew before then. You were always so mean to everybody, except for me. And you know, you really are a good writer. At least, you were back then."

"How come you never confronted me?"

"I figured that you'd tell me. In time."

"But I didn't."

"So I waited."

He waited to kiss and he wanted to kill her and he wanted to do something else.

"Close the door, Morgan. And lock it."

She raised an eyebrow: quizzical. "Why would I cl...oh. Oh, _that._" Lonnie grinned like a kid who'd just tossed a firecracker into somebody's mailbox. "You always were the wild son," she said, and then she walked to the door and closed it and locked it.

It stayed locked for two hours.

When it was done they lay on her couch, sweating. Lonnie said, "I got you flowers," and it sent her into a fit of giggles.

But then he sat up and looked at her, hard, and said, "I've done some bad things. You know that, right?" She nodded. She's read about him in the paper: kept tabs. "You've never done anything," she said, "That I can't forgive."

"Morgan."

"Yes?"

"Marry me."

"Okay."

And his guiding light was returned.

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**Author's Note: Yay! Story's done. Now it's just the epilogue. I hope you enjoyed this little yarn and I would love to hear your opinion on it, so please review and tell me what you think.**

**The song is from the album _The Runaway Found._**


	8. Epilogue The Best Kind of Romance

_You are the star tonight,_

_You shine electric, out of sight_

_Your light eclipse the moon tonight_

_Electrolite_

_You're outta sight_

_Twentieth Century go to sleep,_

_Really deep,_

_We won't blink_

_Your eyes are burnin' holes through me_

_I'm not scared_

_I'm outta' here_

_I'm not scared_

_I'm outta' here_

**_Electrolite, _**by _**R.E.M

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**Excerpt from Leonard "Lonnie" Doyle's Journal, pages 352-400**

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We got married a week after that day in her office and we haven't looked back. I've long since gotten off of my parole and cut ties with all of my old associates and now I'm attempting to pursue a career in film, but it's not easy. Not that I expected it to be. Me and Dr. Bliss still live in Hillwood City and she still works at the school, helping kids. Sometimes I sit with her when she talks with the real thugs--like this jerk named Wolfgang--and do the "you betta' cooperate" bit. It makes her laugh. 

We're expecting the stork sometime soon as well, if you know what I mean.

I moved out of the boarding house upon my marriage and lived with Morgan. The kid was sad to see me go. A while after that he'd come and hang out and we'd drink soda and listen to jazz. Talk about things. He's really quite the guy, that Arnold. A dreamer, though. Comes with the territory.

He and that girl Helga stayed together and they grew up good. Arnold told me then that the kid gave em' all kinds of hell. Some of them believed it was an elaborate prank for months. Some probably still don't accept it. But after a while it just sort of settled in their minds that they were together.

They stayed with each other through high school and through college. Arnold got a job as sort of a corporate trouble shooter: he essentially does the same thing he did as a kid, but instead of kids with problems it's grown up businessmen with problems. Helga became a writer and published several books of poetry and an existentialism novel that was said by the New York Times to "rival Camus". It's a good deal because she doesn't ever have to work in an office and can travel with Arnold wherever he goes. Morgan tells me sometimes when she's in a romantic mood about how Helga must be in heaven. About how she wanted this life so bad. I've seen them together and it amazes me how compatible they are: their relationship has no uncomfortable silences. Helga still calls him names, but not without affection.

The last time I saw them--about three weeks ago--we were all on vacation to the beach and we stopped at this lighthouse. They excuse themselves from the tour after a while and go up to the top and I go up and look at them, and guess what?

They were just standing there looking at the sunset. Holding hands. It's a picture book romance.

And here's another tidbit: I just got a wedding invitation in the mail. Seems like they're tying the knot here in Hillwood. Arnold told me in a letter that they're going to run the old boarding house--seeing as how his grandparents retired--and probably raise a family in it. I don't know about Helga's family. I never asked and she never told. They'll probably be there at the wedding.

Arnold and Helga are still kids in love, even now. And it's the best kind of romance there is.

**End**

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**Author's Note: And there it is. I hope everybody enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also: I know that Dr. Bliss doesn't have an office at PS118--does she?--so I took a little creative liberty there.**

**I've been considering making a 'sequel' to this...a piece that explores Lonnie's character more from Helga's point of view. Drop me a review, tell me what you think.**

**The song is from the album _New Adveventures in Hi-Fi. _Thanks for reading!**


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